The Mighty Viking

Conquering those things we must, one story at a time

A Way of Beginning

A new Blog is a clean, pure thing, undefiled by the clumsiness of its owner.  I don‘t specialize in the pure, nor of the undefiled.  What comes to me is usually broken down, beat up, disabled, creatively oxidized, antiquated – and always, always full of stories.  This goes for cars, motorcycles, bicycles, tools, things that look like they used to be tools, electronics, jobs – they are always well-used, and often not well-loved before their arrival.  This seems to hold true of the children my wife and I have taken to also – children who have not had the smoothest of rides often come our way, each with a garbage-bag full of clothes, and another full of stories they either cannot or wish not to tell.  Between my wife and I, we have collected some really good stories.  I hope to have enough time to tell them to you.

It all started when I was 9 years old, sitting on the veranda with my Great-Grandpa Keller.  Playing checkers would be normally two speeds below my Minimum Sustainable Velocity (MSV), but on this July day, with him over there, and me on this side, and our red and black patterns between us, I decided I pretty much had the greatest grandpa ever.  And so, being 9, I told him so.  And I told him that when I grew up, I wanted to be a great grandpa, like him.  He thought about this for a moment, always taciturn, and then he started to laugh.  It was an unexpected response, but such was the strength of his mirth that I had to wait for the hanky to come out, the tears to be dabbed, and the Moment to subside in order to learn what I had said that had caused such an eruption.  When he could speak again, the first thing he said was, “I don‘t think “Great” Grandpa means what you think it means, Glenn…”

Yes it did Grandpa.  Oh yes, it did.


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